


Smother

by iwilltry_tocarryon



Category: Revolution (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwilltry_tocarryon/pseuds/iwilltry_tocarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after Bass rescues her from the bar. Instead of stopping after she tries to use the knife against him, Charlie tries other methods and fighting ensues. I mostly stuck to the actual conversation they had, but there are times when I diverged from the path. (It's a loose continuation of Thrill of the Kill, inspired by Daughter songs. I chose three different ones and tried to make them flow smoothly)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Futaiim (futaiim)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/futaiim/gifts).



_You've got a second chance, you could go home._  
 _Escape it all._  
 _It's just irrelevant._  
 _It's just medicine_

Was she dead?

Her familiar heart, usually erratically thumping, now only felt like a distant, dull, aching throb. Barely even noticeable to her own acute hearing. Typically her heart hammered persistently against the confines of her chest, ribs parting like the Red Sea in order to allow space. 

But now it felt like a light tap every so often, reminding her it was still there, reminding her it was still alive. Even if it was barely beating.

Life hit her with a hard dose of medicine called reality when she felt her eyelids fluttering open, hearing the soft pitter-patter of rain hitting tree leaves as the scent of dirt infiltrated her nose. 

There wasn't enough sugar in the world to help this medicine go down. So instead, she just had to grin and bear it, trying to swallow the thick pill as best as she could.

“Take it easy.”

But the pill lodged inside her throat, refusing to budge.

“Take it easy,” the low voice called again, the time sterner, forceful. She didn’t have to look over to who know the owner of that voice was. The one she always tried to forget about, but somehow the sickeningly sugar coated voice always ended up wedging its way back into her head.

“You gotta flush the drugs out of your system,” his fleeting eyes connected with hers, but only for a moment before he chucked the canteen of water in her direction.

“Drink,” he commanded.

Flush the drugs out, ha. That’s what she was trying to do earlier. Killing him would’ve eliminated all of the repulsive toxins in her body, cleansing her. He was like a drug, enabling her to continue on with her life. Dependent upon exacting revenge for he life he stole from her.

Skeptically, her fingers tentatively reached out for it as Bass rolled his eyes. Typical Matheson reaction, question every motive and intention he possessed, but don’t bother to inquire your own.

“How long was I out?”

The words crawled, scratching along the walls of her dry, parched throat.

“Full day and a half,” he paused, face remaining blank, “don’t worry I was a complete gentleman.”

He felt as though he had to throw in that disclaimer, even though Charlie didn’t seem to pay a damn bit of attention to him. Looking at him skeptically, snarl forming on her hips as her body swayed.

_Two feet standing on a principle_  
 _Two hands longing for each others warmth_  
 _Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats_  
 _Darkness falling, leaves nowhere to go_

“Yeah, you’re just an all around nice guy,” she dryly commented, taking small gulps of water, relishing in the feel as the moisture revived her throat.

Liveliness returning, the words came spilling from her mouth once it didn’t feel like tiny razors jabbing along the column of her throat.

“You’re a sociopath,” Charlie’s razor sharp voice caused Bass’ head to snap up.

His eyes sparkling as he listened, a half grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“You say what you need to get what you want. Behind the mask, you’re cold, empty, and a killer. That’s all. And I should’ve killed you a long time ago,” her voice remained steady, never once wavering.

“Right,” he snorted incredulously, “well like I told you earlier at the tower. You aren’t the first Matheson to say that, nor would you be the first to try.”

Her body flushed involuntarily when he brought up the tower, hearing the seduction behind his words. She remembered the way his body felt pressed up against hers, locking her wrists painfully behind her back. She desperately wanted to forget how her body reacted, but he wasn’t going to let her.

Gaining more confidence, a grin played on her cracked lips, “yeah well I would’ve been the first to actually succeed, had those bounty hunters not saved your pathetic ass.”

He brushed aside the ‘pathetic’ comment, choosing to focus on the other part of the statement. His mind instantly drifted back to New Vegas, just after his fight, he was going to meet someone. 

But he never knew who it was. All he remembered was hearing a whirling sound, arrow launching until it landed right beside of his ear, and those damn bounty hunters manhandled him. 

At least they got what they deserved. Bass remembered how the old man’s throat collapsed underneath his bruising fingertips, life fading from his only good, uncovered eye. Had it been up to him, that other dickhead would’ve gotten what was coming to him too. His life was over the minute he thought he could turn Bass over to those khaki wearing son of a bitches.

No one fucks with Sebastian Monroe and lives to tell the tale, except apparently Charlie.

It was Charlotte who had tried to kill him. And not only had she tried once and failed, due to unfortunate circumstances, but she came back a second time to finish the job. 

There was a level of hatred for him lodged so deeply inside of her that it covered everything else in a hazy fog. It was like she was thriving off of that one emotion.

There was a light twinge in his heart, not because she said the words aloud, but because there was no sense of underlying remorse in her tone. 

Charlotte Matheson had almost succeeding in putting him out of his miserable life, and she didn’t give a damn.

If he had know that earlier, he might would’ve thought twice about saving her, no, he wouldn’t have. But he wouldn’t have tried so hard to be a damn good guy. It was utterly exhausting, and he didn’t really need her to take him to Miles. He had spent his entire life chasing after Miles; he didn’t need Charlie to lead him there, especially if all she was going to do the entire trip there was try to kill him.

Her eyes shifted down, the glow of the fire reflected on the silver of the knife as Charlie’s body launched itself towards the object, hand shooting out to seize the handle.

Quicker, Bass’ reflexes kicked in as his covered foot clamped down on the weapon, gripping Charlie by the shoulders, hauling her to her feet.

“You’re right about one thing, I am good at killing,” his words beamed with pride as he held her gaze, matching the ferociousness oozing from her eyes.

“I’m very good. Even better when I’m with your uncle,” he spat the last word, letting her know that the uncle she so revered was just as responsible.

The only difference was, Miles left Bass holding the bag while he ran away to play house in a seedy, dingy, underground bar.

Charlie couldn’t take it anymore, thrashing about in his stronghold; she reared her head back, smashing it into his, content when she heard a cracking sound. Bass’ hold on her never loosened, if anything it tightened.

“That’s because Miles had something to live for, what did you have to life for?”

_It's spiraling down_  
 _Biting words like a wolf howling_  
 _Hate is spitting out each others mouths_  
 _But we're still sleeping like we're lovers_

A loud, animalistic growl ripped through his body. She expected him to do something, but instead his fingers just flexed, getting a better grip on her forearms. 

His body seethed with anger, rolling off in waves as he all but trembled. Casting all that anger aside, he chose silence, not trusting his mouth. Charlotte knew just what to say, what buttons to press to drive him crazy, in more ways than once. She had no sense of control, and if she had been anyone else, she would’ve been dead.

Her chest expanded rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath, breasts pressing up against his solid front each time.

“For the time being at least we’re all on the same team,” he threw his hands up, releasing her as he motioned around.

“Those U.S. guys, they’re going to be a problem. A big one.”

“What if I tell you to go to hell,” she sneered.

Laughter erupted, exploding from his mouth in short bursts, “what makes you think you got a choice?”

Taking two long strides, he crossed over the pit of fire, dwindling down into a low flicker. 

Dropping his voice, he forced out the cold words, “I’d say lead the way sweetheart because it sure seems like you know your way there.”

Snapping, her hand balled into a fist, swinging wildly in his direction, clipping the side of his jaw once before his knee came up, ramming into her stomach enough to thwart any further attempt.

Struggling to catch her breath, she bent over at the waist before anger reared its ugly head and Charlie swung again, bringing her knee up at the same time to throw him off. Hatred ricocheted between their bodies during the assault, gaining momentum with each swing, each kick, each intense look they shared

He had to hand it to her; she was relentless and smart, but not enough to trick him. He had years of experience on her.

Dodging her blow, he cupped her knee, drawing her body into his before winding his arms around her back, slanting his mouth over hers. He did the only thing he could think of to stun her.

His plan backfired when after only a few seconds her body went slack, molding into his as her mouth parted to make way for his probing tongue, delving into her mouth.

Their teeth clanked together with such raw fury as he bit down on her lower lip; copper filled his nose as the liquid trickled into his mouth. There was no tenderness about their scorching kiss, but it would be a lie to say it lacked passion.

Her nails raked down his back, digging in as she dragged them down.

It would be so easy. So easy to lose herself in him. And that’s exactly what she did.

All rational thoughts were just background noise as his hands panned up her delicious body as her shirt rose higher and higher until eventually it was over her head and tossed aside.

It was almost too gentle for her. 

Her hands grasped the hem of his shirt, tearing it off his body, indicating that the last thing she wanted was to go slow. 

Bass took the hint, hissing when she shoved her pants down as he copied the action with his own.

Charlie wasted no time, kicking off her boots and pants, crushing her mouth back against his while Bass was still freeing his feet from the denim material.

Her tongue forcefully worked its way into his closed mouth, Bass offering no assistance nor making it any easier on her. If she wanted this, she was going to have to work for it. There would be no mistake, this was all on Charlie, and she understood the silent, unspoken agreement.

Stroking his tongue with hers, she moaned into his mouth when she felt rough hands against her backside, grabbing a fistful of her smooth ass. He kneaded the forgiving, compliant skin until digging his nails in. 

When Charlie grinded against his throbbing erection, Bass let out a loud moan, encouraging her to continue.

Finally all of Bass’ resolve snapped like an elastic band and he threw them both against the hard ground, driving right into her at such a vigorous speed that Charlie had no time to catch her breath.

After a few seconds she was able to roll her hips up into him, putting as much force into her thrusts as he was giving, slipping almost all the way out of her heat before ramming back into her.

There was no telling which one of them was louder but there was one thing for certain, there weren’t any words coming from their mouths. Only unintelligible carnal grunts.

Charlie’s hand searched for something to hold on to, working its way into his disobedient locks, tightly tugging at his head as her fingertips scrubbed his scalp. 

As soon as she felt her orgasm building, twisting in her lower stomach, she tucked her knobby knees into Bass’ body hard enough to leave bruises in the morning. Her body convulsed underneath his, knees never faltering until the last drop of cum exited her body.

Pain mixed with pleasure for Bass, igniting his own orgasm. His teeth clamped down around Charlie’s shoulder, eliciting a moan from her lips as Bass pulled out at the last possible second, dumping his hot sperm onto the inside of her thigh before sagging against her body.

_And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,_  
 _Cause most of us are bitter over someone._  
 _Setting fire to our insides for fun,_  
 _To distract our hearts from ever missing them_

“I hate you,” she finally said, not even bother moving away from his embrace as she hissed, running her fingertips along the bite mark forming on the surface of her skin.

Bass didn’t flinch; there was no meaning behind them, no sense of authority grounding those words. He had heard them too many times, he would know when someone actually meant it, and Charlotte Matheson didn’t.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that kid,” he rolled his eyes.

She continued on, ignoring him as though he hadn’t called her out, "because if I don't hate you then I have nothing else left. I've spent all this time, harboring this hate towards you. Blaming you for everything because it was easier—"

"Right, because that hate has been so useful. Look at you Charlotte,” he lowered his voice until it morphed into a whisper.

“You're turning into the worst version of yourself. You're becoming what you despise.” He dropped his lips to her ear, silky voice penetrating the air, “me."

Ripping her body away from his, she was surprised when he willingly let her go, throwing her clothes back on as fast as possible.

A fire burned behind her eyes, bright enough to put the sun’s rays to shame, "I will never be you."

"No, because I actually own up to all my faults and past mistakes. I don't let them weigh me down like dead bodies.”

Her face scrunched up in disgust at the mention of dead bodies.

He bitterly chuckled, “sooner or later you're gonna find out Charlotte, you either get lucky and die young, or you live a long, miserable life, slowly becoming the villain of your own tragic tale."

Those words hit her hard, colliding with her body as her knees buckled, ass hitting the log with a loud thud. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying anything, but Bass didn’t need a verbal response from her. He could read between the lines, seeing the realization slowly creep upwards on her delicate, fragile facial features.

His words affected her. Good. He was tired of being the only bad guy when everyone else had made bad decisions that lead them to where they were now. 

Bass saw the blood on his hands everyday, guilt never leaving his mind, but the rest of them? They lived their white picket fence lives, trying to hid out and cast aside all the bad shit they had done. Hoping that, if they ignored it long enough, it would go away. Regret wasn’t a friendly neighbor who stopped by every so often, he was a persistent salesperson who would beat your door down to order to make a sell.

Bass glanced over to the girl, hands cradling her impassive face. 

Charlotte was different from all the rest of them. She knew the choices she made and she didn’t try to hide from them. Instead she allowed them to consume her, latching on to her hate like a parasite, magnifying it.

The words “I’m sorry,” bolted from his mouth before he could pull them back in, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was sorry for. 

Was he sorry for saying all that shit to her about the monster she was turning into? Hell no, maybe that did some good, and even if it didn’t, she didn’t to own it.

But he was sorry to see that she was becoming this person. No one deserved to look in the mirror and see an unrecognizable face, only to find out that cruel, calloused thing looking back at them was their own face.

Straining her ears, she heard the soft words but said nothing, treating him as though he was a spooked horse. She registered the sincerity of his voice.

_So we lay in the dark,_  
 _Cause we've got nothing to say._  
 _Just the beating of hearts,_  
 _Like two drums in the grey._  
 _I don't know what we're doing,_  
 _I don't know what we've done._  
 _But the fire is coming,_  
 _So I think we should run_

Lying back down against the log, she let her eyes close, body staying on full alert as she felt his linger gaze upon her rigid form. She could feel the drumming of her heart returning, echoing loudly in her ears.

There were a million thoughts running through Charlie’s head, but none she could force out. So instead, she lay there, silently, the only sound emitted from her body was the sound of her chest rising and falling with each intake of breath.

Bass had no thoughts trampling about in his mind, but a million different words dangling on the edge of his coarse tongue. None of those particularly nice words, so instead of letting them run rampant, he bit his cheek, keeping them at bay. The only sound coming from his tired, sore body was the gentle, steady inhalation of oxygen.

Neither of them trusted one another well enough to be completely relaxed at this particular moment. 

Not because they feared the swift blow of death coming from one or the other of them. But because of the other very dangerous choice skirting around, incessantly pounding against the door they had just gladly opened.


End file.
